


Stolen Clothes and Sleepless Nights

by notsafeforowls



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 20:22:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13959303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsafeforowls/pseuds/notsafeforowls
Summary: "Is that my shirt?"





	Stolen Clothes and Sleepless Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Set right after No Country for Old Dads, brief references to torture.
> 
> For groddlives.
> 
> I'm mickroryed on Tumblr, feel free to yell at me about ships over there.

“Is that my shirt?”

Ray freezes in the middle of rearranging the plates - by size, with the dinner plates on the bottom, working his way up to the smallest side plates that he’s not entirely sure that anyone on the Waverider ever uses - to tug awkwardly at the hem of the shirt. Mick’s leaning against the worktop, looking him up and down.

“Maybe?” It’s not as if Mick ever really wears this one. It’s been in Ray’s room for a few months, ever since it got mixed in with his laundry, and he’s been telling himself that he’ll give it back to Mick the next time he sees him the entire time. It’s not as if Mick ever wears it anyway. It’s not that bad that he’s wearing. “Do you–do you want it back?”

Mick ignores him, instead crowding him up against the counter, one hand taking hold of Ray’s right wrist, the other carefully taking the plate from Ray’s left hand. The glove is half touching the sleeve of the shirt, half touching Ray’s wrist, and Mick’s been wearing them for long enough that the leather’s warm against his skin. 

For a long moment, Ray watches Mick look at his hand on Ray’s wrist – or that least that’s what he thinks Mick’s looking at.

“When was the last time you slept, Haircut?”

Ray swallows hard. He hasn’t, really, not since the Darhks took him. Whenever he tries, he only manages half an hour before he wakes up again. It always feels like he’s drowning again. And it feels so real that Ray’s pretty sure that he’s dreaming about the way they tortured him. He’s slept for a few hours over the last three days.

Gideon’s stopped letting him have coffee, and even Nate goes to bed eventually.

“A few days,” he admits, and his eyes widen when Mick tightens his grip on his wrist and steps back, pulling him away from the counter. “Mick?”

“You’re going to get some sleep.” There’s not really anything Ray can do but follow him as Mick leads him out of the kitchen and through the ship’s corridors. “I’ll stay with you,” he adds when Ray opens his mouth to say that he  _can’t_  sleep, “and then I’m taking my shirt back.”

(Ray wakes up once that night, pressed close to Mick, one of Mick’s hands splayed across his back, the shirt shoved halfway up his back. Mick doesn’t ask for the shirt back in the morning.)


End file.
